


The Long Road

by sunflowerbright



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:24:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerbright/pseuds/sunflowerbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times that Guy of Gisborne was a hero, and one time that really mattered.</p><p>And then the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Choices

 

_"A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is braver five minutes longer." -_ Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

 

_First_

 

Guy is seven and old enough to understand when someone is in pain. He’s heard enough screams, seen the blood and the writhing as his mother tried to ease her patient’s suffering. There are only so many places you can escape to in their house and none of them completely cover the moans of despair.

The bird’s wing is broken – that is a given, from the odd angle that it’s folded and it’s definitely not helping that the bird keeps moving it, as if testing to see if it could still fly every other second. Perhaps hoping that the pain would ease over time if it just kept trying.

It only takes a few moments, before he can’t stand to watch the bird like that anymore, and he quickly moves forward, scooping up the injured animal and gently cradling it in his arms, trying not to jolt the wing too much. He’s back home in a few minutes, ignoring the odd looks from the other villagers as he runs past them, flapping and terrified bird pressed against his chest.

“I’m not sure there’s much I can do for it,” His mother’s voice is warm and soft and apologetic, the worst combination. “It would probably be best if we…”

He may be just seven, but he still understands. There’s a long way between understanding and doing the deed though and in the end, it’s his mother that has to wring the neck, quickly and swiftly, her hand still bleeding from where the bird hacked at it with its beak.

“It’s for the better,” She assures him. “You did the right thing.”

 

 

 

 

 

S _econd_

 

The sound of children’s voices fill the air, loud and shrill and Guy tries to ignore it as he walks home, mud splattering his boots and coat.

“Let go of me, you half-wit!”

Or, rather, he would have ignored it, if that hadn’t been his sister’s voice.

“What’s going on?” And it is a bit unclear. There are four un-washed boys, all of whom he recognizes but only one he can name, and Isabella, standing in the middle of a huge puddle of mud. One of the boys is holding his sister’s arm and Robin of Locksley has his hand extended towards her, beckoning gesture.

“I just told her to give me some of the bread in her bag!” He protests, gaze locking on Guy. “The farmer’s cat has got kittens and he says he’ll drown them, because he can’t afford to feed them.”

“Cats can find their own food!” Isabella shouts and then proceeds to call Robin something in French that is decidedly _not_ nice. Said boys he folds his arm and glares at her.

“Let go of my sister,” Guy says before it can get more out of hand, lightly stepping forward. The fact that he’s older and several inches taller goes a long way and the boy holding his sister quickly lets her go. He’s rewarded with a load of hair being flung into his face, as Isabella haughtily turns, managing to look princess-like despite the surrounding mud.

“You’re just going to let the kittens die then?” Robin protests, stomping after Isabella. “You don’t care at all?”

“Leave my sister alone and stop harassing people for food!” Guy shouts, his voice booming through-out the village. He grabs Isabella’s arm and starts dragging her back to their house.

“You didn’t have to do that,” She mumbles. “I could have handled it.”

“No you couldn’t. You’re a girl!”

“Hey!” She protests, digging her feet into the ground. “That doesn’t mean…”

“Right,” He snaps, too tired to listen to her tirade. It’s starting to rain again and that is decidedly not helping his mood.

They pass through the village in silence, her small hand still in his broader one. She thanks him quietly just before they reach their front-door.

 

 

 

 

 

_Third_

 

Guy had expected a lot of things on his way back to Locksley for the first time since he was evicted from what used to be his home. He’d expected angry crowds, uninterested crowds, even angrier crowds and, oh yes, pitch-forks.

He hadn’t expected to see a rider-less horse run past him on the road, saddle looking like it could come lose any moment. He spurs his own horse and quickly catches up with the frightened animal. Up close he can see that it is a palace-horse, the Nottingham insignia burned into its flank, but it’s a side-saddle.

Oh great. Somewhere, some noble prissy snob must be lying in a ditch, wailing about her ruined dress. Just like Vaisey to give a nervous horse to a lady.

He manages to sooth the frightened animal just enough for it to follow him back and, just as expected, in the distance a young woman is slowly coming to stand, her back turned to him and the sunlight catching in her brown locks.

At least she could stand up on her own.

“My Lady?” He says, knowing that she must have heard the horses approaching but still not wanting to frighten her. She doesn’t appear to be hurt, but there’s dirt on her dress and still a stray leaf in her hair and he’s met enough women to know how fuzzy they can be about things like these.

She spins around and looks directly at him, squinting against the sun, before a delighted smile breaks out on her face.

“You caught the beast!” She triumphantly exclaims, slowly reaching out a hand for her lost animal to sniff at. “Thank-you so much – I would’ve never managed to do it alone.”

The horse seems to have forgiven her completely, lightly tripping forward and rubbing its muzzle against her fingers. Her smile gets even broader and her eyes glint in delight. She looks at him again and Guy becomes aware that he’s staring in what must come off as a completely rude fashion and that he has yet to speak again. Racking his brain for something, _anything_ , she luckily beats him to it.

“My name is Marian Fitzwalter,” She says and this time, her smile is aimed only at him.

 

 

 

 

 

_Fourth_

 

Disappointed is one word you could use to describe his mood right now: but surprised isn’t.

That Marian would rather stay and fight, that she wouldn’t take the cowards way out, that she wouldn’t run away with _him_ of all people – no, Guy isn’t really surprised that she didn’t accept his offer.

Her words echo through his head, the wood of the bridge clanging against the metal of his horse’s shoes. There’s an all-too knowing smile on Sir Jasper’s face and Guy has to fight the urge to punch him.

“And the woman – the Lady Marian, is she leaving with you?”

“No,” He says. The word feels like it is being ripped from his throat. “She will not abandon Nottingham.”

“Imbecile!”

Guy blinks against the sun, his horse neighing impatiently under him. “And without her… my world may as well turn to ash.”

Everything from there and until he’s looking at her face again is a blur and for the next minutes, all he’s aware of is his heart pounding and the solid, warm form beside him.

“There’s still time. You can still get away.” _Please, just this once._

Of course she refuses and maybe it’s just as well, because he isn’t sure that he would be able to stand upright if she wasn’t there and it has little to do with the massive army getting ready to trample them all into the ground and more with the fact that her warmth is addictive and soothing and he wishes that they could live in this frightened, broken moment forever.

She grasps his hand just before the grand finale. Of course, it turns out to be not quite so grand after all and Guy isn’t sure if he wants to laugh or hit something, as the small, angry man that is Sheriff Vaisey yells at him, the army slowly retreating in the background.

_So much for being heroic_ , he thinks, but his hand still feels warm several hours later and he knows what he would do, if given this choice again.

 

 

 

 

 

_Fifth_

 

The horror won’t leave him and his hands are still shaking, even after he’s declared to the Sheriff that he has caught the Nightwatchman. Actually, it’s not just his hands shaking, it feels like his entire body might start convulsing any minute now, or maybe his heart will just rip itself out of his chest, given time.

Strangely enough, the dreaded feeling of despair inside him has decidedly less to do with the ‘ _betrayal’_ that keeps echoing inside his head and a lot more to do with… his hands.

They won’t stop shaking and he can’t stop staring at them. The gloves are off and the red blood is slowly tickling away, streaming over rough and worn fingers and palms. It shouldn’t be possible for someone to bleed this much.

Of course, it isn’t real and it’s not his blood. It’s Marian’s and he can see it as clearly as he did that night a year ago, the twisted knife hitting it’s mark like it always did.

_Remember this, Nightwatchman?_

He wonders what would have happened if they’d been married then. What he would have done when he’d seen the wound.

The blood starts dripping to the floor, his head spins and he thinks that he’s either going to be sick or bang his head against a hard, preferably uneven surface. Maybe he’ll hit hard enough for amnesia to settle in, and these last six years starting with the find of a frightened horse in a forest, will all just disappear.

He blinks and stares down at his hands, suddenly free from the blood, but still shaking. A knock on the door has interrupted his walk down hell-road and Allan pokes his head in.

Before the former outlaw can say anything, Guy has already moved.

“Come on,” He says, gripping the man’s shirt collar and yanking him along. “We need to go save Marian.”

His hands stop shaking when she’s safe again.

 

 

 

 

_one_

 

“Hood isn’t dead.”

The sentence hangs in the air, heavy and thick and with a mixture of surprise and happiness. At least she tries to hide _how_ happy the news makes her, little comfort that it gives him.

“But the Sheriff said…” Marian slowly starts, her chain clanging slightly as she moves forward. “I mean…”

“They escaped. They’re here, in Acre. Now.”

It’s very akin to torture, watching the light that fills her eyes, seeing the life slowly return to her. She bites her lip and fumbles slightly, seating herself on the edge of the bed, the only furniture in the room.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m not sure.” Only, that’s a lie.

“Guy…” She lets the word hang in the air, drifting up there with the former silence. He moves forward, his mind taking a quick moment to revel in the fact that she doesn’t shy away from him, even when he’s this close.

The lock clicks with a loud sound, the manacles falling from her wrists and hitting the floor with a thud. The sound seems to reverberate through his skull, but he’s more aware of the soft sound of surprise that she utters, her eyes now on him.

“What are you doing?” She whispers, afraid that the wall has ears.

“Just go.” He says. “The stables are in the west-wing. You should be able to sneak out there. If you ride now, you can get to the king’s camp before Hood does.” Yes, very akin to torture. He feels like screaming and breaking something. Anything.

“But…”

“Marian, _go!_ ” He hisses between clenched teeth, standing up and glaring down at her. It’s easier if she’s to blame for all of this.

She leaves in a flurry of white and brown, the sunlight peeking in through the window and creating patterns on her skin. She kisses him first, though, and he’d like to think that it’s more of a thank-you than a goodbye, but he also knows that he has to stop fooling himself.

He’s never been good at the options life threw at him, but at least this once, Guy feels like he’s done the right thing.


	2. For the Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's June when Vasey dies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter was: ‘Guy’s chances to be a better man’ and this is, in essence: ‘Guy becomes a better man’

_“What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us.”_

**_-_** Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

It’s June when Vaisey dies and the sun shines for the rest of the day.

“Tomorrow Gisborne,” He’d said the night before, drinking wine at the speed of a race-horse. “Tomorrow, I’ll have set up the perfect plan to catch Hood!”

“You don’t even know if he’s back yet,” Guy retorts, thinking of desert and sun and Marian in a white dress. Escaping.

Vaisey grunts something in reply, looking entirely displeased: he should, his plan completely failed considering that the ‘little leper’ had somehow managed to escape and warn the king before even Vaisey’s men got there, leaving Richard suspicious enough of who to trust that he didn’t immediately chop off Hood’s head.

“Stupid king,” Vaisey mutters and is found dead by a serving girl five hours later, wine spilled everywhere. The physician declares it a combination of too much whine and an over-load of work that has seemingly made the Sheriff’s heart stop.

“So you don’t think anyone poisoned him?” Sir Jasper mutters the next day, arms folded tightly. He’d gotten there as soon as he heard the news, though the speed is surprising. Guy wonders if he’s been waiting for this, ever since the failure of Vaisey’s latest mission.

_He had enough poison in him already,_ Guy thinks. “I was the last one with him sir and I didn’t touch the wine.”

“I suppose he was getting a bit old,” Sir Jasper says as he hovers over the dead body, suspicion slowly creeping away in the face of Mathilda’s steadfast glare. Just another plus of getting her to check the body, Guy thinks, though she had looked at him rather odd and been very cross at first. Jasper is starting to look a bit skittish.

“How old was he, Gisborne?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Guy retorts and that is at least the truth, compared to his other statement. Mathilda’s eyes bores holes in his neck, but to anyone not as trained in the field of medicine as her, it would certainly look just like an elderly man dying over his last bottle (make that bottles) of wine.

No one needs to know that he poured anything in. He doubts anyone in Nottingham will complain anyway, if they did find out. Mathilda is sure to keep his secret.

“I suppose you’re Sheriff now,” Jasper turns and smirks at Guy. “Care to go for a drink to celebrate that? But maybe not wine…” He eyes the body that is currently being prepared to be lift out (and possibly thrown in the dung hill, Vaisey hung that servant’s brother last week).

A few hours later they’re on a first name basis and Guy is pretty sure he’s given half of Sussex to the other man, but it might just be his over-hazed and completely drunken mind that tells him this. 

“I got it in Acre,” Guy confides in him at one point, referring to the poison. That’s all he says though, and well, considering the whole Sussex-thing, he’s pretty sure Jasper will shut up about it too.

He makes Mathilda court physician the next day (which might be the result of a terrible hang-over, considering how much the woman hates him), with leave to train a bunch of new physicians considering that ‘she’s getting a bit old too.’ Guy thinks maybe he shouldn’t have told her that last bit, but he might still be slightly drunk.

_Getting poison in my food now_ , he thinks as her glare turns murderous.

“What if I’m not any good, huh?” She snaps, several inches smaller and still hovering over him. “You’ll hang me then, eh?”

Guy blinks. “If you’re a rubbish healer, you’ll get fired.” Is all he says and the lines around her mouth soften just slightly.

“Where did you learn about poisons?” She asks, her eyes daring him to lie.

“My mother was a healer,” He answers, realizing that he’d almost said ‘ _saver’_ instead. Because that’s what she was.

He has to leave then, mostly to throw up in the courtyard, but also because everything is in an uproar considering that their Sheriff has just died, only to be replaced by someone who is hated almost equally as much. The rest of the day passes in a flurry of signed statements and a revising of the taxes and Guy forces himself to think of his mother’s proud face, instead of another female who’d be beaming at him for these changes.

There’s a remedy for head-aches on his nightstand that evening and he stares at it for several long minutes, wondering what kind of poison she used. But it’s not a murder-attempt, he realizes that as something in the corner of his vision flickers slightly. It’s a test.

He drinks it all in a single gulp, steadfastly ignoring the muffled sound of foot-steps and his door creaking open as Mathilda slips out.

_Test passed._

A week later, Guy still hasn’t been poisoned, but right now, he is sort of wishing that he had been.

“I do hope you won’t disappoint me in the same way that your predecessor did.” Prince John says, waving around his hand and blinking in an all-too fast fashion.

“I hope the same, sire.” Are his answer, their cups clanging together and Prince John’s high laughter filling the air.

“I must say, you are a much more pleasant host than Vaisey ever was,” The prince continues. “Of course his lust for blood was always so thrilling, don’t you find? But it got out of hand, I say. We can’t have madmen running the country, now can we?” He throws his head back and laughs and Guy lets out a sound that might be a giggle and might be an utterance of terror. “I do find your company… much more invigorating.”

Guy decides that he needs to start drinking some more.

“We should poison his cup as well,” Mathilda snickers, having magically escaped past the guards and into his chambers before the feast was over. At least now Guy knows where Hood’s learned it from.

He’s about to tell her to _get the bloody hell out and stop sneaking into my chambers, old lady!_ But she hands him the same remedy from before and suddenly transform into Guy’s new favorite person.

“You don’t have to do this.” Guy said, the ‘this’ being the remedies and the sudden lack of insults in his general direction and the surprisingly almost kind words that has started up lately. “I said you wouldn’t hang and you won’t.”

She puts her hands on her hips, looking like a menacing giant whose bread has been stolen.

“Never had anyone take care of you Gisborne? No wonder you’re such a rascal.” She tilts her head to the side. “I’m a mother as well as a healer, you know. Only my little girl’s long moved away.”

She leaves before Guy can protest that he’s _‘not a rascal, you maniac woman!’_ and the next day is almost as bright as the day that Vaisey died.

 

 

*

 

 

 

The next one to sneak into his chambers is no other than Robin Hood himself.

“So, you’re the new Sheriff, Gisborne.” He says, sharp blade resting just under Guy’s chin. “Do they still have the old order in place, or should I just kill you now?”

“Piss off Hood: I’m trying to sleep,” Guy snaps, because he feels like he hasn’t slept in several weeks (he’s starting to wonder why Vaisey’s heart _didn’t_ just stop a long time ago, considering the work-load. But maybe it’s because Vaisey just didn’t care). Robin looks decidedly surprised at this.

“Sleep?” He mutters, regaining some composure. “I’m surprised you have time for that – don’t you have some peasant to go torture?”

“You’ve brought your manservant with you? _Ow!_ Alright,” He grits his teeth, fighting down the urge to connect his fist with the other man’s face. “Have it your way.”

“I am telling you, Gisborne…”

“I’m Sheriff. You don’t tell me what to do.”

Robin lets out a low laugh, but his face quickly becomes somber again.

“Why did you do it?”

“What? Did what?” Guy mutters, for a short moment panicking, which is ridiculous because if anything, Hood should probably congratulate him on finally getting the Sheriff, but then he realizes that that’s not what he’s talking about.

“Why did you help Marian escape?”

The sound of her name is like a rock falling from his chest, the one thing he hasn’t allowed himself to do. It’s a painting of brown and red colours, intertwining letters and smudges of grey.

_Marian. Marian Marian Marian Marian Marian Marian Marian Marian._

It’s also the one thing that he doesn’t want to hear right now, despite how much his starving heart might need it. It’s a loose end, a _what if?_ because when he unlocked her bounds he had not thought about the _after_ , only the fact that she looked so fragile in that white dress and that her eyes where shining with something dangerous and fierce. It was, perhaps her most attractive feature: this woman who, when getting thrown off a horse would stand back up and ponder on how to get the frantic animal back.

It’s the fact that now Hood is back and so she might be as well.

“Because she’s Marian,” He answers and Hood’s face is a mixture of irritation and a deep understanding. He stands then, blade still extended but not near and Guy lifts his hand to wipe away the smear of blood on his chin.

“I’ve been told that you’ve lessened the taxes,” Hood says, his eyes squinted in the dark and in disbelief. “That you haven’t hanged anyone yet, that people aren’t getting their hands cut off and that you’ve hired Mathilda.”

“Yes,” Guy retorts. “There’s only so much one can do with the taxes when Prince John is breathing down your neck.”

He can see the white of Hood’s eyes widen in surprise.

“What are you trying to pull, Gisborne?”

“Again, sleep would be nice…”

“Don’t start!”

“You where the one who barged into my sleeping chambers in the middle of the night,” Guy says. “You did this with Vaisey often? That’s nice, Hood.”

Instead of reaction on his snide remark, Hood starts studying him, as well as he might do in the pale moon-light.

“Do you think you can win her, by doing all this?” He finally says, each word booming through the room though his voice is low.

Guy can still remember the part of his mind that kept bombarding him with images of Marian as he poured poison into Vaisey’s cup. Marian as the Nightwatchman, Marian knocking Allan out to get his sword, _Marian Marian Marian Marian_.

“Do you think you can just change, become a better man and she’ll accept you?”

He looks at Hood, really looks at him and thinks of a haughty child and the roaring flames that destroyed the only real home he’d ever known.

“It worked for you.”

Hood’s stance becomes stiff and Guy knows that he remembers. He wasn’t the only one who lost something that day, after all.

“You’re a fool, Gisborne.” Is all he says, before he disappears again, finally allowing Guy to get some sleep.

It’s a good thing too, because sleep becomes very scarce the next few days as his sister and her husband ambushes him with a surprise visit. But maybe it’s good, because Mathilda has finally bullied him into ordering the guards not to kill Hood’s gang, despite the fact that they’re still outlaws. He’d argued back that he couldn’t raise it completely, because Sir Jasper was too aware of him and there was only so long giving someone Sussex could go.

It also helps him get distracted from the fact that he has yet to see Marian, and that is both a relief and a huge disappointment.

“You’re not the kind of Sheriff I would have expected you to be,” Isabella confides in him one evening when she’s quietly shuffled into his working-office to read while he signs degree one thousand and bloody seven or something.

“You’ve changed a lot too,” He mutters, thinking of the girl who’d once punched a lad both older and bigger than her into the ground, because he’d said that her hand-writing wasn’t neat enough. “You’re…”

“Frightened,” She whispers and looks at him with something akin to blame, and then suddenly she stands up and runs out of the room, dropping the book on her way out.

Guy has to stop working only a little while later, because he’s feeling ill, the words getting blurry in front of him and his stomach clenching.

“Nothing I can give for that,” Mathilda says as he explains, a strange smile on her face. “It’s simple human nature. You’re worried about your sister.”

Guy frowns. “Isabella is married to a wealthy and powerful man. Why should I be worried about her?”

For a brief moment he thinks the healer is going to slap him, but then she just sighs and gives him that strange smile again.

“Please Gisborne, don’t be as daft as sheep dung. You know this one.”

And he does, though it takes a lot of convincing himself, but the look of utter joy that passes Isabella’s face as Thornthon declares that she doesn’t have to come with him home just yet, is completely worth the hours of persuasions it took to convince the man. And he didn’t even once threaten to torture him: Guy is exceedingly proud of himself.

Of course, then half of Nettlestone burns down in an accidental fire, a huge part of the harvest is lost and Guy starts to feel like he hasn’t slept in several years. It doesn’t help that Hood decides to stride in at the most inopportune moment, looking stern and a little puzzled.

“Your guards are getting lazy,” He says and Guy wonders if Sir Jasper would swab Sussex for Nottingham if he asked nicely.

“If you have nothing but idiotic comments for me, I’d prefer it if you send Allan instead.”

The look on Hood’s face turns sour. “What, missing your former accomplice?”

“I miss Vaisey’s company compared to yours,” Guy mutters and they both know he’s lying. It wasn’t Hood’s cup that he poisoned, though there are several instances in where he wishes that he had.

Hood moves closer, looking like a predator bird preparing itself to attack. Guy is not at all faced, knows that he won’t risk killing the new Sheriff who is actually turning out to be better than the last one. Not that it takes much to be a more humane person than Vaisey. A dormouse could probably do that.

“You’re letting us off,” Hood finally says, standing just beside Guy’s chair now. “You’ve told the guards not to disturb or harm us. One of them even helped distribute food yesterday!”

“What, is it not fun to be an outlaw anymore now that it isn’t a challenge?” Guy raises his head and has just enough energy to glare. “The people don’t worship the very ground you stand on?”

“Your taxes are still too high.”

“If Prince John finds out about the changes I’ve made, he’ll burn Nottingham to the ground. I’ve done as much as I can, given the circumstances.” He leans back over his desk, determined to ignore Hood now. “Face it Hood: I’m the lesser of two evils.”

There’s a long silence after that, in where the scratching of Guy’s pen against the paper is the only sound that can be heard. The door opens again and Isabella steps in with a servant carrying a tray, but they both stop in surprise when they notice that he’s not alone.

“Oh… brother, I was…” Isabella is lost for words and Guy is too tired to explain, so he simply beckons them over, ignoring Hood’s curious looks towards his sister.

“Is there anything else?” Guy asks him, finding his presence tiring and irritating.

“No,” Hood says. “I’ll be going.”

“Oh, let me show you out!” Isabella scrambles out of her seat, moving to Hood’s side and letting him take her arm. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced…”

“You threw mud after each other when you were ten!” Guy huffs, but is completely ignored. He stares after them as the front-door closes, thinking that something significant has just happened and he was not privy to the secret.

Isabella comes back to the hall just as he was about to go look for her and there’s a happy flush in her cheeks that makes him want to groan and hit his head against the table.

“Robin wanted me to tell you that Lady Marian is currently staying at some relatives in York, but will be back in a few days and would like her room prepared for then.” Isabella says, sitting down next to him. There are too many statements in that single sentence that mess with his mind, and immediately after the leap of joy that his traitorous heart takes is the _‘ she called him Robin! What the bloody hell?’_ and the fact that Marian is moving back into the castle, which, instead of leaving him annoyed at her matter-of-fact and all too-haughty attitude, just makes half of him want to run singing and dancing through the castle (and Guy rarely dances and _never_ sings) and the other half to go hide in the darkest corner he can find.

“How nice,” Is all he can manage to say as his brain slowly melts from the eighty-degree spin his world has just taken.

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

There is definitely something wrong with the universe, because the sun shines brightly one day and the next it’s raining, pouring down and he has just gotten through half of his paper-work when there’s a knock on the door and an announcement that ‘The Lady Marian has just arrived, sire.’

He’s expected to go out and get her, isn’t he? It would be rude to stay in here. Even if he has a lot of paper-work. And she’s just come home, surely she’d like to just go up and sleep. No, he doesn’t have to go out and greet her.

Guy’s feet is carrying him down the hall-ways before he can even finish that thought, his heart racing madly and his mind completely blank of what in the world he can do.

And there she’s standing, just in shelter of the rain, her cloak heavy with water and her wet hair clinging to her pale skin. She looks like she’s freezing and like she hasn’t slept for days and Guy wonders if she’ll impale him if he kisses her right now.

“Lady Marian.” He utters it like a breathless whisper, his heart constricted in his throat. She turns to him, a drenched lock falling down in front of her eyes and making water slide down her cheek.

“Guy,” She mutters and he notices that her lips are tinted slightly blue and then that said lips are smiling at him, but he can’t really focus on that right now.

“You’re cold,” He says and wants so desperately to reach out and touch her, make sure she’s warm and safe again. She’s paler too and she looks….

“Well, I’m not feeling too well,” She laughs and then suddenly stumbles forward, practically falling right into his arms and it would be perfect, if this wasn’t Guy’s life, and because he knows enough of healing to realize that she’s probably caught more than just a cold.

“Pneumonia.” Mathilda confirms later, when he’s come barging into her room, demanding that she do something. “She must have ridden through all this rain: I’m amazed that she didn’t drown.”

Guy thinks that that must mean something, but if the fact that she’s ridden through heavy rain and nearly caught her dead, just to be back in Nottingham sooner, leaves a tendril of hope in his heart, it doesn’t register in his mind. His mind is filled with masked men, blood-stained hands, poisoned cups and doves as white as Marian’s dress.

They haunt him in his dreams that night, as exhaustion has finally taken over and he falls asleep by her bedside, clammy hand clenched tightly between his. He’s vaguely aware of Mathilda throwing a blanket over him at one point, but then sleep and nightmares overtake him again.

In one of them, Hood dressed as the Nightwatchman is hanging a dangling a pig’s head in front of him, a large diamond-set necklace caught in its mouth. The next moment it’s Vaisey standing there, trusting a poisoned blade into his gut, twisting and turning.

_“You betrayed me, little Gizzy_.” He says, his words coming out like feral animal growls. _“You save some little leper and finally you’ve become a hero? Who do you think you’re fooling!”_

The knife twists again and Guy wakes with a scream in his throat. It’s getting lighter around him, the sun slowly setting to make way for a new day.

“Nightmare?” A soft and raw voice asks and his head whips around to stare at Marian, buried under mounds of blankets and looking very small and pale and exhausted but most definitely _alive._

“Yes,” He says and can’t stop staring. She smiles a little shyly up at him, a glint forming in her eyes.

“You’ve been here with me all night.”

“Yes,” Guy repeats, like the utter idiot that he becomes in the face of the woman he loves. Her smile gets wider though and he’d gladly trade away all of England, Sussex included, for one of those.

“I never got to…” She starts, looking unsure now. “I mean… I wanted to say… I’m sorry I just ran out on you… back in the Holy Land.”

Guy’s frowns. “Ran out on me? What do you mean?”

She frowns and bites her lips. “I mean… when you set me free… and I should have come back for you, or asked you to come with me. I mean, I must look absolutely deceitful in your eyes. Not checking to see if you needed help and then coming back now, when….”

When the treat was eliminated. When Vaisey was dead and gone, no longer able to hurt her.

“I had to sit and listen to all the different ways he wanted to kill you,” The words slip out before he can stop them and he’s vaguely aware of his hands shaking slightly. “When we got back home, he was absolutely furious with you for thwarting his plans. He wanted to kill you more than he wanted to kill Hood. If you’d come back, he would not have hesitated to do so. When we were in Acre, he would have done the same thing. Vaisey doesn’t forgive easily and you tried to kill him. He would have had you executed on the spot as soon as you stepped foot back in England. That’s why… I had to kill him.”

It’s all said in a rush, words fumbled and stumbling over each other, but it’s said and now he can’t take it back. He’s not really sure he want to, because it suddenly feels like something heavy is being lifted from his shoulders. He’s told her now and it’s up to her to decide. Even if she still runs away from him in disgusts, he has, at least, been honest.

_That was always the problem with us, wasn’t it?_ He thinks as her blue-grey eyes looks at him in wide-eyed wonder. _We never did get around to telling each other the truth._

Now that he’s started it feels like he can’t stop, his tongue burning to form more words, but she’s still looking shocked and he figures he should probably give her time to process what he has just told. From her point of view, he can see why it might be a bit of a shocker.

“You mean…” She says, her voice sounding weaker now. “You mean that you… everything you’ve done…”

“It’s always been to protect you,” He says.

“But to go that far… to actually _kill_ the Sheriff….” Marian’s tongue flickers out to wet her lips and she’s still staring at him like she’s seeing him for the first time. “I mean… I’m not… I never thought…”

“What, that I could love so deeply?” He snaps, fear and worry and expectation catching up with him and colliding in one huge pile of anger. It’s the emotion he’s most used to, after all, especially after realizing that with Vaisey, he was like a bird with a broken wing, pitiful and weak and eventually someone that would have to be killed out of mercy.

For some reason, his statement renders her completely speechless and she manages to just stare at him, face clouded in a mixture that he can’t possibly convey. After a few moments of watching emotions flickering through her suddenly very expressive eyes, he thinks he might have got it.

“You didn’t know.” He says, his tone flat. He wants to be angry with her, but that’s hard when she’s still looking like she might break if one blew on her. He thinks of Thornton and the fact that Isabella looked like the empty shell of his sister when she arrived and he thinks of mindlessly following the orders of a complete madman, all the way hoping to gain power, because money meant power, position meant power and once you had that, you could get the rest later.

Only Marian’s position had always been shaky with Vaisey as Sheriff, and yet she’d proved to have more power over him than anyone else in his life, including his mother. _Saver._

She looks even more surprised when a smile slowly slips over his face.

“You’re an idiot.” He says, mainly because it’s true.

Her mouth forms an ‘o’ of surprise and she glares at him. “That’s a horrible thing to say, especially to an ill person!”

That sobers him. “You’re getting better.”

And now _she’s smiling_. “You were really worried about me, weren’t you?”

“Yes, you daft woman.”

“If I were younger I’d be mad enough now to poke out my tongue at you.”

That makes him laugh, because he has a very distinctive memory of a four years younger Marian, crossing her eyes and poking her tongue out at Vaisey after he’d just given her a very deliberate and insulting tell-off in the main hall. She’d caught him looking at her moments later and turned as red as her dress, but she’d been given him indulgent and mischievous smiles for the rest of that day.

“Guy?” She says and he wonders how he’s never noticed that her voice is extremely soothing in that low tone. Possibly because she’s never spoken to him like that before.

“Mhmm?”

“This is nice, but… I can’t really feel my fingers.”

He looks down and notices the death-grip he has on her hand, sheepishly letting go and mumbling some form of apology.

“No worries,” She says, grinning at him. “You can get it back later, when the blood’s returned to the digits.”

It is slightly annoying that she can get him to blush like he’s fifteen again, but he is distinctly aware that she’s flirting with him, even when it is apparent that she has almost no energy left to keep awake, her eyelids dropping as she sinks deeper into the madras.

“You should sleep. I’ll leave you to it,” He mumbles, suddenly feeling awkward and out-of-place, as he stands to walk out.

“Guy…” She mumbles, stubbornly forcing her eyes open again. “Wait…”

“What is it?” He mumbles, tripping lightly where he stands.

“Can we… make a pact?”

That stops him short. “A pact? I think you’re still feeling ill, Marian.” Damn her for being able to make him smile even when she’s not trying. “We’re not twelve.”

“No… but I would like…” She stops short, from exhaustion or hesitation he can’t quite tell, but she seems determined to get this said. “I would very much like it, if… from now on, we told each other the truth. No matter what.”

Whatever has been moving him these last years under Vaisey’s service, these last months under his own, whatever has been making him go forward in his way, whatever it is, it makes a wailing sound and swiftly curls up and dies inside of him. It is possible that he’s a bit dehydrated and he doesn’t think he’s eaten ever since he heard that Marian was returning and the only sleep he’s gotten has been bend over a bed, slowly strangling the life from said lady’s hand, and it may just be him hallucinating, but he feels like he’s woken from a dream (or nightmare, possibly) and everything seems just a bit sharper, the colours more clear and vibrant around him.

_I need to stop drinking_ , he thinks, looking down at Marian who has already fallen back asleep, apparently aware of what he was going to answer before he himself was.

“Of course,” He promises and clenches the urge to kiss her before he leaves.

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

There’s somewhere between finally getting some proper sleep and Mathilda declaring that Marian will be alright, that Guy starts to wonder exactly when his life turned out to be like he wanted it to.

“Possibly when you stopped wanting the wrong things,” Mathilda says and Guy quickly leaves, because he still finds it incredibly scary how she can apparently read minds. Maybe she should get another duck in the lake, but the one time he had jested about that she’d thrown a wooden mallet at him with surprising strength, declaring that the next time he broke any bones she wouldn’t be the one mending them. Guy had kept his mouth shut on the subject from then on and also removed all heavy and sharp objects from the woman’s possession.

It is also somewhere between sleep and recovery that Robin moves back into Locksley, Prince John’s attention having finally slipped somewhere else for the time being. There’s a horrible feeling in his gut, as he watches Marian hug the newly-returned lord of Locksley and he has to leave before he breaks something, preferably Hood’s skull. How _stupid_ , why had he not realized… Marian was an honest and good person, and she cared about him, yes, but there was nothing more than that. She’d only come because she felt guilty. Nothing else.

“I’m not marrying him,” Is all she says as she returns _(home)_ back to the castle and Guy wonders when life will stop hitting him with a stone-brick wall and then expect him to recover immediately.

“He really likes your sister, though,” She teases and the urge to crush said skull returns with a vengeance. Marian laughs though and that somehow makes up for it.

“You know, you’re not as horrible at being a Sheriff as I would’ve thought,” Hood says one afternoon when the lord’s meeting has been over with and he has lingered for some god-forsaken reason. Guy is un-faced by the apparent compliment. If it can even be called that.

“You know, I never understood it,” Hood says, apparently insisting on being annoying tonight. But something in his tone makes Guy listen, despite his vow not to do so with Hood. “How she could… well, stand you. Especially after we found out about your little ploy to kill the king.”

“Now, about that…”

“But she kept insisting that you had _qualities_ ,” Robin persisted, completely ignoring the fact that Guy was trying to speak. “She must’ve somehow, seen something good in you.”

“She does that,” Guy mutters.

“She was acting so _weird_ in Acre. She kept saying how we owed you, how you could be a good man and I, well…” He grins at Guy, which doesn’t help his mood at all. “I got pretty annoyed with it. I guess that’s when I realized… some things belong in the past.”

Guy frowns wondering what the hell that statement was supposed to mean and when Hood had gotten deeper than ‘ _feed peasants!_ ’ and if maybe he could convince Mathilda to give the Lord of Locksley a ducking in the lake instead, but then Hood mumbled something about leaving and turned to do just that.

“I still don’t have any proof, you know.” He says over his shoulder as he reaches the door. Guy looks up.

“Proof of what?”

“Your little journey to Acre all those years ago,” Robin gently touches his side where Guy’s blade had once sunk in. “I have no proof to give the King.”

He leaves before Guy gets to say anything (and really, people has got to stop doing that, he’s the Sheriff for god’s sake) and then he’s floored with the knowledge that Robin has just done him a huge favor. The former outlaw isn’t one for subtle treats: this was a promise.

Oh _great_. Now he’s in the man’s debt too.

“He has better keep his hands off my sister,” He mumbles, rubbing his temples in half-feigned agony.

“Did you say something?” Marian’s voice rings out from somewhere behind him and it’s enough for Guy, hardened warrior, to jump up from his chair, reaching for a sword that isn’t there.

“Marian!” He snaps, relaxing slightly. “I thought I was alone.”

“Ah, sorry. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” She mumbles and there’s an awkward moment in where they’re both thinking _Nightwatchman_ , and Guy silently wills his hands not to shake.

“Um, so… Will is setting up his new shop in town. He and Djaq are getting married in winter.”

“Oh. How nice,” Guy deadpans and Marian pinks as she realizes that all she’s accomplished is to make them think: _wedding_ and the silence stretches out.

“You seem… happy,” She finally says.

Guy blinks. “Yes. I’ve been thinking about… how things have changed.”

She nods enthusiastically. “Yes, since Vaisey died. Since you…”

“It apparently all leads back to him,” Guy cuts her off, a selfish part of him that will always be there screaming to be free of actually hearing her say the words. “My… happiness didn’t start until I’d gotten rid of him.”

He doesn’t mean the words to sound so bitter, but the realization has been gnawing at him for a while now. It just goes to prove the theory: all he can do, all he is, is simply a killer.

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Marian mumbles, looking defiant as she raises her chin. “I rather think that it started when you saved me. Once someone has started doing selfless acts, it becomes easier to do so again. All it takes is that first little push.”

She’s moved closer, he notices, but her eyes aren’t locked on his, instead seemingly looking everywhere but his face.

“I thought of it, in the Kings camp,” She continues, looking like he can imagine he did when he finally just _let it out._ “How it took you no prompting to save me. That it’s the one thing you’ve always just done. But I still didn’t have faith in you: I was too scared to come back to Nottingham and see for myself that you were still working for the Sheriff. I was a coward, staying there for as long as possible, because I couldn’t face it if my hope was crushed all over again. I guess I thought… it was never alright for me to feel the way that I did, about you. Not unless you could change and I really wanted to believe that you had, but I just couldn’t. And then I heard of the new Sheriff, of you, and I felt so ashamed, but I knew that I would never forgive myself if I didn’t return. So I acted like everything was normal and rode through a storm to get here as soon as possible, lest I lose my courage again.” She briefly stops herself, tongue darting out to wet her lips. Gaining courage. “That’s what I really wanted to apologize for. I haven’t had any faith in you.”

The world doesn’t tip this time: instead there’s a soothing, warm feeling inside of him as he thinks of a broken bird and Marian standing next to him as they faced almost certain death. Maybe that’s what’s so invigorating about her, the glint in her eyes and the smile on her lips. _You’re everything a person should strive to be,_ he thinks, wondering if maybe he’s putting her on a pedestal and really not caring, because now, he’s tall enough to reach.

“Are you?” She asks and he realizes that several minutes have passed in where every emotion he’s felt must have shown on his face. Not that he really has anything left to hide from her, vulnerable as that might make him feel.

“What?”

“Are you happy now?” Marian looks at him now, fierce eyes daring him to sneak around the truth. _You promised._

“You’re here,” He says in his most condescending tone of voice, because apparently that is how he deals with her now and while it’s still a barrier that shouldn’t be there, it seems to be something she can work around as opposed to his anger. In fact, she doesn’t seem like she cares about it at all, because she moves forward and kisses him, arms sneaking up and around his neck and he’s surrounded completely by Marian and wonders if it will rain tomorrow.

It doesn’t rain for another week, but Marian stays.


End file.
